I thought I hadn’t done her justice. The older woman in the poem, I mean. I’m going to keep trying. And you’re right about people: they’re fascinating. I’m teaching a research writing class this semester in which my students will conduct fieldwork. It’s one of the most exciting courses I’ve taught, precisely because my students seem… well, charged by the idea of going out in the world and interviewing and observing others at work — people they know, with whom they’ve interacted at best on a surface level, but from whom they think they might stand a good chance of learning something inspiring and useful to their futures. I hope so.
And I’m sort of sick of myself, too. I’ve spent a few solid weeks locked away inside my own mind, and it’s high time I tried breaking out. I’ve got a piece of fiction in the works which may soon see daylight. It has so very little to do with me it’s refreshing.
I couldn’t figure a way to comment on your piece about Belle, but I can say now that I definitely agree. Does the word oblivious do her justice? Probably not fully; she is fairly articulate, and seems capable of following her heart insofar as it leads her away from home. But what might she have discovered had she stayed and opened her mind to those others she judged rather harshly (Gaston excluded; that dude deserves what he got)?
Thanks for interacting today. I hope you and your family have a pleasant evening and a good weekend, Rachel.